


Run, Little Blue, Run

by Geisterschiff



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Captivity, Gen, Violence, character injury, inspired by game melody's escape, mention of blood and death, music activated bodysuit, obstacle race with a twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 15:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14896964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geisterschiff/pseuds/Geisterschiff
Summary: Lance always loved music – skipping to the beat rumbling in his headphones on the way from school, being lulled into sleep by its warm embrace or drowning out the lifeless silence of the castle/space when the pull for his family got too strong.The only thing he loves now is silence.A.k.a when Lance and Hunk are sucked into a warp hole, they think it will be like that one time on the water planet. But there are no cute mermaids around this time. There is a high frequency sound instead, interfering with their lions, leaving them defenseless. Captured by hostile inhabitants, forced to partake in the Run, their only way out is music. Lance's feel for music and his agility, to be precise.





	Run, Little Blue, Run

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the Lance Flash Bang hosted by [voltronbigbang](http://voltronbigbang.tumblr.com/).  
> I’ve collaborated with the awesome artist tachimon, who captured the emotion of the story perfectly in the picture! You can check out more of their art [here ](http://tachimon.tumblr.com/).

Does he even remember when the black bodysuit he was so proud of was replaced by one in gray?  
If Lance really wanted, he could go back and count every single day. But some things are better not remembered. He would see soon anyway.

Standing in the dark hallway with his eyes closed, he is way too conscious of how tightly does the suit hug his body. A second skin he would like to shed. The material is still strange. It feels like the suit is buzzing with electric energy, waiting for the right moment to lash out at him. It feels like thousands of bug feet crawling all over his skin. It makes him feel like puking every time he puts it on. It makes him remember what awaits him behind the large door he avoids to look at at any cost.  
There is noise behind the door, a lot of noise, but the large headphones stuck to his ears drown it all out. He could listen to music; calm, soothing music as **they** call it. But at this point Lance is sick of music, even more than of the strange bodysuit. He prefers to wait in complete silence.  
In dark, no sounds, just him and his thoughts.

When the door opens, Lance is greeted by light and scent.  
The acrid smell of blood and death he thought was something he would never get used to. Now he barely notices it. The stench of despair overpowers it - of the others’ as well as his own.  
He has already learned not to look around. Not at the audience, wailing and laughing, thriving from their pain. Not at all that blood that’s been mixed with the soil.  
The ground at the starting line is dry, crunches under his feet as he walks, but Lance doesn’t hear it. He rubs his clammy palms against his thighs. They are warm already, almost hot from all the stretching he had done. They are ready and Lance has faith they’ll carry him all the way to the goal again. He runs his hands up over his chest and checks the headphones one more time - they do sit tight. The music already starts to play.

It’s slow at first and Lance trots in easy steps. His movements wake up the lights interwoven in his suit and they give a grim gray glow. The first obstacles are short. Small black blocks Lance doesn’t even have to jump over. Just lift his legs a little higher. The lights flicker with a blue tint, muted and shy. They don’t distract him as he stares ahead, at all that still awaits him and calculates. The number of Runs he had been through is high enough for him to evaluate well - where the music would pick up in beat, where he gets a little slack, where it will be a stretch to reach, where his bones might crack.

The music thrums faster in his ears and Lance’s pace picks up. His fingers grab at the low wall and he swings himself over. Feet back on the ground and running again, teeth sink into his lower lip. The first real barrier is right in front of him. He charges at it, muscles in his legs stretching with every step to the point of pain. The empty space between the steep cliffs lies in waiting like a predator, ready to devour.  
A loud rumble from the headphones reverberates through his whole body.  
His feet hit the first button.  
The lights on his suit flare up. Bright, bright blue rushes from his toes all the way to his head. Like a stream. Like an explosion. The suit pulls him through the air over the pit and Lance winces. Outright sobs.  
The bright blue glow has a memory etched to itself and the first one of each Run always scratches it out of the deep of Lance’s brain.

 

 

_When he realizes there is him and Hunk and a warp hole, it’s not even a déjà vu feeling anymore. They don’t fall into water though. There are sharp rocks and swirling sand instead. And their lions stay dead. They make a camp right in between their paws._

_~ We should wait here by the lions this time. It’s what you are supposed to do when you get lost. The others will find us. ~_

_It’s the third day after the crash and everything is still the same. Hunk tries to tinker with the beasts, but has no clue. He says the high sound Lance is able to pick up should not be enough to render their lions completely useless. But maybe ‘should’ is the keyword here._

_It’s the fifth day when they are ambushed. Overpowered before they can even reach for their bayards. Tall and strong aliens all around. Hasn’t this planet seemed completely void of life when Lance surveyed the surroundings from the highest rock-mass he could climb upon?_

_It’s a long way as they are dragged into a city that’s hidden way too well. A maze basically neither he nor Hunk are confident enough to get out of on their own. They get a room. There is a bath. There is enough food and drinks too. But it’s still a prison._

_Five more days is what it takes before anyone interacts with them past the wordlessly exchanged trays with meals. A lone alien who connects his hands at his fingertips, constantly tapping his middle fingers against each other as he explains things.  
Lance watches it and grits his teeth._

_They are brought to a balcony and watch. Observe._

_An obstacle race. Simple enough, eh? But the twists pile up. There is music you have to match to. There are places impossible for a human to reach. There are suits that will help you with that, but only if everything lines up. The music beat is bound to the buttons on the ground._  
And then there is the number.  
Hundred for each.

_Lance places a hand on Hunk’s arm when he feels him shift beside him._

_“I’ll do it for both of us.”_

_“Can you do that? The races are…”_

_“I will do it for both of us.” Lance doesn’t look at the alien as he interrupts him, watching the current runner miss his chance. The beat of the music curls around Lance’s ears, but the runner’s steps come too late. The button doesn’t light up. Neither the suit. And when he jumps, it’s only to death._

 

 

Lance pushes the memories back. He has a task to do that wouldn’t cost a life, but two, if he failed.  
The beat drops down and so does Lance. He dives head first under the low plateau. There is just enough space for him to fit. His fingers dig deep into the slippery dirt and pull. Desperate and struggling to get out now because the beat in his ears is picking up again. It is not lenient for even one second.  
He helps himself with a kick and a grunt. Back on his feet and running before he can even completely collect himself. His suit is covered with a mix of mud and blood, but the lights still shine bright blue as he steps onto the button. Just in time to propel himself up the upcoming wall. The fabric squeezes at his muscles, giving him the chance to reach.

He falls down on the other side. His muscles burn and protest. There is more stumbles in his steps, but he forces himself along.  
The music cascades in rivulets over his skin like razors. He drowns out what obstacle is in front of him and just does. Until that last jump.  
He heaves.  
Pushes. Pulls. Wails.  
His feet are pure lead on the last button. The vein on his neck pulses and he jumps.  
The force smashes him onto the ground on the other side and he rolls in dust. There is only a few specks of blood at the finishing line. Lance heaves on the ground and feels like vomiting his lungs right out.  
He stays down, silent and unmoving except for the rapid sprint of his chest.  
He counts only to five though and forces himself up. If he doesn’t register in time, he still fails. He leans against the table that stands close by, barely hanging off it and slams his wrist down. His armband beeps and the monitor lights up with his stats. He ignores them all but one number.

198.

Lance doesn’t really notice Hunk rushing to him, placing a blanket around his shoulders and offering support to stand.  
Only one thought howls through his mind.  
_Just two more._  
Right?


End file.
